Pertaining to Illusions
by Mirage
Summary: Potions, illusions, and catfights! Draco watches Hermione for a brief period, and Ron gets disgusted. The series in general is PG 13, but this story is about G.
1. Default Chapter Title

Author's Note: This is a HP story with no made-up characters BUT minor ones; such as Death Eaters, Bus Drivers, you get the point. Rated PG13 for curse words and a more pre-teen/teen theme. In other words, fluff, snogging, and toast. Toast, for me, is mild curse warning. And I don't have anything to do with Criterion of Incertitude (**cough, Paradigm of Uncertainty *Cough), so don't even ASK! Although it is a very good story! 

~ Realistic Genuine Shadow Mirage Specter Apparition Phantasm Illusion Phantom. ~

Please, call me Mirage. I need a beta-reader, and don't want to go to Writer's U. Will someone volunteer? You have to be able to find spelling and grammar errors that my spell check doesn't catch. Also, characterization and context is important! If you want to, contact me @ [genuine_mirage@hotmail.com][1]

Or if you just want to chat, you can also email me! 

Mirage: Pertaining to Illusions 01

Pertaining to Illusions 

Introduction…

Illusions are nothing but lies. Or are they? They cover up the truth. But sometimes there is nothing under. But sometimes there is. And it isn't always a lie…

A baby boy lay in a cradle. The pannier was made out of black wood. The wood wasn't just a dark brown; it was truly black. The color of the bassinet and the color of the boy contrasted drastically, though. The lad was pale as a winter night—paler, if the truth was to be said. His hair was as white as an elderly woman's, and his skin had not even the bloom of youth. He was as well behaved as a man of twenty; he did not cry, nor even whimper as the baptismal water was put on his forehead. A cold voice spoke up. "This child is to be named Draco Thomas Malfoy." The child had not yet flinched at the cold January morning, or even at coming out into the world, but at the sound of his father's voice he cringed more than a little. "Bring in the gift bearers."

A heavy oaken door scraped on the floor. A ghastly stench filled Draco's nostrils; an old witch had approached him. " I give this child selfishness."

Another old woman came near. "My gift is persuasion." "Greediness." "Disobedience." "Rudeness." "Malevolence is my gift." 

As each woman spoke she placed a form of plant-life beside him, all of which were black. An aster. A violet. A charred larkspur. A lily-of-the-valley. A fern. A creeping vine. And finally, a twisted rose. Only one woman was now left. "Thank you, ladies," Said Lucius Malfoy. 

"Wait a moment," called out a light voice. " I have not yet given my gift."

A lady walked quickly to from the door to Draco's cradle. She tapped him lightly on the nose. "I was not invited to this ceremony! I consider that a mortal insult. Therefore, he shall die by trying to help someone else in his sixteenth year!"

Everyone had been frozen in shock before, but when she spoke these words, they writhed in horror. With a clap, she vanished. "Wait. I have not given my gift, either." The homeliest siren walked up, hunched over. 

"Can you counter the hex?" asked the frightened father. 

"No," replied the crone, "But I can help. He shall not die. He shall be put into a deep sleep. Sadly, it will still be by trying to save someone."

She reached down to place her flower down, a wilted daffodil, only to realize that the witch had also left a flower. A single white rose, brilliantly colored. The small child reached for it with his small baby hands, chortling.

Only too late, everyone in the room realized that Draco had been given two presents. One was the ability to bond deeply with someone. The other was a conscience.

Sixth Year, First Potions Class

"Today we shall be making a disorientation potion," whispered Snape. "This potion casts a random spell on you when drunk. Be careful how you prepare them. Now," and Snape looked around the room," I shall pair you up into partners. Granger! You work with Draco." He had noticed Harry, Hermione, and Ron sidling up to each other. "Longbottom! You work with Parkinson! POTTER! You will NOT be working with Weasley!" He pointed a long finger at Millicent Bullestrode. Harry groaned and strode off to his destination. Ron rolled his eyes as Snape paired him with Esselte Yakima, a scrawny, Swedish Slytherin with a face that looked remarkably like Dudley's.

"Let's get this over with." Harry gritted his teeth. Millicent wasn't known for being too good at potions. Quickly Snape managed to find something wrong with every potion ingredient that he had prepared; though praising Millicent's. 

__

At least, Harry mused, _even if I hate Potions, I manage to put in the chokecherries without wondering why they're red…_

When the potion was finally done, it was a resonant emerald color. Harry looked around him, and saw that some were violet hues, while others were shades of gray. Harry grabbed a goblet sitting before him. Millicent did the same. 

He ladled the liquid into his goblet, noting the high viscosity. The glop would hardly come off the wooden spoon. Finally there was a bit in each of the goblets. Harry tilted his upside down, figuring the thickness of it wouldn't allow it to come down quickly. 

It came down far more abruptly than he would have figured. He hurriedly swallowed it, perceiving that it tasted like stoat. Nothing happened. He looked at his partner. Then he looked again. Her ears were larger than an African Elephant's. 

Suddenly, his hearing range was exaggerated. He felt something brush his shoulder, and tried to brush it off, only to find it was his ear. His range of hearing caught Hermione's panicked voice. "Malfoy, we can't take that potion! I know what it is—a transportation potion! We could be flung anywhere!"

Malfoy's drawl was impatient. "Granger, we won't. It's just a shrinking potion."

"Well, I know they do look kind of alike, but this isn't!"

"Yes, it is. You don't want to fail Potions, do you?"

Her voice was meek. "No."

"Then take it!"

Harry's super sonic ears caught the glug of potion being swallowed.

CRACK!

He whirled around, only to see that Hermione and Malfoy had vanished. "HERMIONE!" He rushed over to where she had last been. The potion was a brilliant magenta. His words echoed seemingly in the silent classroom. "Where are you?"

The last thing Hermione remembered was taking the potion. Then—nothing.

The words echoed in Draco's head. "This is wrong… " He furiously fought them. "No, it's not! It isn't wrong! It really is a shrinking potion!" But he knew it wasn't, somehow. But was it really his fault? He thought it _was _a shrinking potion. He didn't change it. But he _had _deceived Hermione. But why did he care? 

Why did he?

Seeing Hermione on the ground was really a welcome from the battle in his head. He knelt down besides her. "Wake up." He wasn't really used to not having his way. "WAKE UP! RIGHT NOW!" He was screeching at her. To no avail. She rolled on her side. "Where are you?" she sleepily murmured. 

"What?"

"Nothing." Hermione sat up, smoothing her crumpled robes. "Where are we?"

"I don't know." Draco was frustrated beyond belief.

The groggy state was wearing off more quickly than he would have liked. "You mean it _wasn't a shrinking charm?"_

He shrugged. Nothing infuriated her more then to see that he was shrugging it off like that. Hermione wasn't happy about being lost and dirty, but the fact that Draco didn't care was more than she could stand.

"DRACO MALFOY! IT IS TIME THAT YOU STARTED TAKING RESPONSIBILITY! WE ARE NOT GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE WITH YOU ACTING LIKE THIS! YOU SHOULD—"

Hermione paused for a breath. Draco got the picture, however, because he immediately conjured up a magical map. His brow furrowed in puzzlement after looking at it. 

"What's the matter?" Hermione inquired anxiously. 

Draco didn't answer.

Hermione repeated her question with increased worry.

Draco looked up. "I—I don't know. It doesn't show."

Hermione had never seen Malfoy worried before.

It just showed how scared he was. And that scared Hermione, too.

Harry looked at the floor blankly. Everyone had been searching for Hermione for hours unsuccessfully. Ron ground his teeth. "I bet that evil git planned this, just to snog Hermione!"

For possibly the first time in hours Harry managed a weak smile.

"Ron, Hermione has something."

"What is that? Being pretty? An object on which Malfoy can vent his rage? Or simply the fact that she's female?"

"Ron, its called willpower."

"Why would you need wi—wil-willpo—"

He couldn't get the word out. Harry's grin grew larger.

Ron clutched his stomach and pretended to retch.

"Urgh…who'd think Malfoy was _handsome_?" He looked as though the word pained him.

"Wait—I P think he's pretty. He's the biggest 

Pretty-Boy I've seen." He added.

Harry shrugged. Truth be told, he had heard Lavender Brown and Pavariti Patil talking about him lately.

"…Ooh, he's so cute! I hope he asks me to the seventh year ball!" That particular dance was not supposed to be heard of except in seventh year, but the two biggest gossips in the school had intercepted love notes, snatched bits of information, and badgered people until they gave up and told. 

"No, he's going to ask _me!_"

"I hope he doesn't ask Pansy Parkinson!"

They both wrinkled their noses at that, and changed the subject off Malfoy to Harry, at which point Harry had stopped listening.

"Harry, are you listening to me?" He stopped reminiscing and listened to Ron.

"But are they even close to finding Hermione? I hope they are."

Ron rolled his eyes.

"Really," he said sarcastically. "I do believe that _I _was the one who liked Hermione from the beginning. But now you go stealing her, like everything else. I'm leaving."

He stormed out of the commons area. It was deserted, because everyone was at dinner. But neither boy had felt hungry. 

Now Harry felt even less so.

Draco wasn't feeling formidable at the moment. He wasn't feeling angry, in control, fierce, or even just his usual emotions. 

He was feeling bewildered. 

It wasn't something he was used to. He had been _certain _that that was a shrinking potion. But in the back of his head, he remembered that he had known it wasn't one. But why did he say that? He went over his day, step by step, to make sure that there wasn't something that he had missed.

__

Draco is shaken awake by Goyle. He gets up and dresses, going to breakfast. On the way he is intercepted by Pansy Parkinson, who simpers at him. But his heart belongs to another. He smiles at her, but it's a sad one. She doesn't notice. His breakfast is bacon and eggs. The Owls arrive, and he gets a letter—Draco scanned his memory painfully. He just simply couldn't remember. He had no idea what had happened to him after that letter arrived. He didn't even know who had sent it. He could remember what happened after breakfast; he had gone to potions, feeling nauseous. 

He picked up a rock, and chunked it angrily. Hermione rolled over in her sleep. He had a strong feeling that that letter had influenced him in some way. He grinned slightly as he thought of R.L.W.I. (Reading letters while intoxicated.)

He took a long look at her sleeping, and braced himself for a long night. Draco pulled up his hood, still watching from inside it.

Ron was crying.

He didn't really know why he was crying; yet that didn't change the fact that he was bawling like he hadn't since he was very young. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was angry with Harry. No. He wasn't really angry with Harry. It was Hermione's vice that she was alluring, it wasn't Harry's that he was attracted to her.

Ron brought his fist down on the bathroom counter, shaking it noticeably.

He kicked the sink until a sharp pain in his toe made him stop. He then pulled out his wand and transfigured the washbasin into a twig, which he snapped. 

Ron then proceeded to wreck the entire bathroom, venting his rage in such a way that Snape would be pleased to ruin Gryffindor's chance for the House Cup. There was a knock on the door, making Ron pause in the middle of planting an well-aimed spell in the toilet.

"It's Harry," said a small voice on the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," said Ron gruffly. Quickly he wiped his face to clear it of tears, but he saw in the cracked mirror that it remained red and puffy. That couldn't be helped.

He walked over to the door and unlocked it. Harry stared at the bathroom. 

"Wow." He gaped, avoiding looking straight into Ron's eyes. Ron noticed that he had not yet gotten rid of his ears; it had been hours. 

"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Ron. But Hermione is my friend. She will still be my friend, no matter _what_, Ron. And you can't stop friendship. But Ron, as long as you feel this way about Hermione, I can promise that I won't feel anything more than friendship for her…"

Ron looked down on him in a new light. Even though Harry was possibly two feet shorter then him, he still looked up to him. "Are you sure?" He asked wistfully. 

It was too good to be true.

Harry wasn't sure, but he knew how much Ron needed him, and Hermione as well. His feelings for Hermione were beyond _like._ But he was sure if he _loved_ her; he loved her like older brother and younger sister, even though Hermione was 4 months older then he was.

He finally looked into Ron's eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure."

Ron knew that Harry was lying, and he respected him for it. He knew that Harry was prevaricating to save him from being hurt. Ron trusted Harry to do what was best, but it still hurt. His lies hurt worse then anything.

Without drawing hemoglobin, or even speaking, they had created a blood bond. Neither would violate it until the other spoke. And that meant that their unsaid contract would never be broken. 

Deliberately, that is.

Ooh! Cliff-hanga! Fine. I'll admit that I suck at them. You can scroll down through my THANX, BUT READ THIS FIRST: I need a beta-reader! (Another one.) Also, thanks to Cassandra Pissone

Author's Note: Before I end, I have a policy: Don't Ask! J

I thank everyone who has encouraged me to try this; mainly **my best friend Meagan** and **Mad Catter. (I don't agree with all of Mad Catter's stories, ideas, or language though! J Yeah, HMMM you too.)**

If you enjoyed this story at all, please review. I don't care about constructive flames. I'm not sissy-boy JKPotter12.

I love EMIN$ M and BsB, even though they're the UUUUGGGLLLIIIEESST things 

I've seen…

This is really short…

Well, if you have any suggestions, any anything, don't hesitate to contact me!

I love email…

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except that Slytherin. I hope that Slytherin is everyone's 

favorite house.

Also, 

I

Hope

That

You

Loved

My

Story

~

J

Dedicated to: Teresa, who has provided many hours of laughter with her silly emails. Also to HoHoHolly, whom I feel sorry for… Your stories were FUNNY! Don't quit! We NEED a bit of funny in our lives!

   [1]: mailto:genuine_mirage@hotmail.com



	2. Default Chapter Title

Author's Note: I just found the most WONDERFUL fic: Curse Breakers by Veredilan (I think. I'm not sure. It was a wonderful, imaginative name, and I can't spell, so don't sue me.) 

But getting to it, if you want me to read your fic, you need to tell me. I usually read people's who are logged on, but if I don't know that you're an author, I don't go to yours. 

Okay, if the layout totally disgusted you on the last one, it's not going to be like that on this one. I was just trying to show EMOTION with everyone. And I don't know if it's gonna be d/h, h/h or r/h. Or none.

And I don't even know where d/h are yet! Wait, yes I do, I'm just not going to tell you! 

Uh, back to my wonderful, fabulous site, if you have any cool banners for HP or your site that you would be willing to let the public have, email me. (My site's title is 

****

Harry Potter Graphix

(You could use other graphics for your site, but why?)

Also email me if you have knowledge of HTML. Although you won't, so why I'm asking I don't know. 

I will go into a deep depression if you don't review my stories. I don't care if you READ them, just review.

Yes, Hermione does make a BIG deal outta Draco blushing, but then, when has Draco ever blushed in the books? TLC: SHOUT!

Uh, I hate this fic, and you should, too. Neville's part is rather exaggerated, but I expect you to understand it! Uh, I'm putting in an appeal for a column. I have to find out how to first, though…

Well, I know my Author's Notes are rather long, but nobody ELSE ever listens to my rants…

Now I know who Hermione is going to end up with. Not Draco… wait—maybe. Just have to see.

And whoever emailed me and said that I copied Cassandra Claire…

All I have to say about that is "Who?"

Warning: Mild cursing.

^~Mirage~^

Pertaining to Illusions

02

Of evil, good, and rubber chickens

Hermione was ticked. First of all, she had been dragged away to the middle of no where. 

It was cold, wherever they were. The chill and the damp didn't go away, even with the sun warming them.

Secondly, she was with her arch-nemesis. The one who teased her about being muggle born; the one who insulted Ron about his family; the one who insulted Harry about anything and nothing.

Last, she didn't have a brush. She may not have been the prissiest thing, but she would be damned if she'd even let _Voldemort _see her with unruly hair. 

Hermione ruefully dragged her fingers through her chestnut-brown hair. Hermione winced when they snagged a knot. 

She looked over at Draco, who was still sleeping. She noticed that he was sleeping in an upright position, hands crossed across his chest. 

She couldn't see his face-as it was covered by his cloak-but she _could _see that he had clearly fallen asleep on the watch. 

Hermione really didn't feel like facing whatever might be out beyond the horizon (besides a few strange, scraggly trees), so she walked over to Malfoy and gave him a rough shake, jumping back after, as though he was a hot skillet. 

He didn't wake.

She tried everything she knew, from kicking him to tickling him. 

Nothing worked. Finally, at last resort, she yelled " Draco Malfoy! You are a disgrace to—"

He jumped up. Hermione had no idea why, but as there was no need to try to rouse him any further, she quit. Little did she know.

Draco was in a wonderful dreamy state. He didn't know when he had had such a wonderful fantasy, not in his life. 

He had been musing, only to himself, that he was somewhere with Hermione, alone, where he didn't have to be around Pansy. 

His father yelling again interrupted his dreamy state, however.

Same thing as always. He was a disgrace. But he didn't think twice. 

He jumped up; determined to take whatever punishment he was destined for with bravery. 

His head still ached from last time he had not acted with promptness.

But it wasn't his father. It was Hermione. Then it hit him. 

He _was_ alone with Hermione; but not the same as in his fantasy. 

At that time he realized he had made a total fool of himself. And he did something that he could never recollect having done before: he blushed.

Hermione stared at Malfoy. She had just ruffled the aplomb of Draco Malfoy. 

The boy who had probably been amused at killing small animals. 

The boy who laughed in glee at people getting hurt. The boy who didn't cry, even at the death of his great-uncle. 

That time she had been sure that he had _laughed. _The boy who—Hermione stopped musing about that topic. 

She didn't think she had enough time to list the many that he qualified for. 

But still, one simple fact remained. 

Draco Malfoy, coldest person in all Hogwarts, most emotionless individual that Hermione had ever set eyes upon, was blushing.

True, it was only a slight pink, but that slight color was doubtless the only in Malfoy history. 

Draco had gotten over his coloring very quickly. Immediately, his complexion was back to that of a corpse. "What are you staring at, Mudblood?" he snapped.

Hermione shrugged. He had used the sobriquet often enough that it was like the Muggle word "idiot".

"Granger, we need to try to find out where we are, how we got here and how to get back."

Hermione stared at him for not the first or last times that day. 

"Really? I thought that we were going to find the Red Sea, climb on a dolphin, and visit Atlantis."

Oddly, Draco did not try to make a comeback. He simply stared at her in the strangest way; his gray irises seemingly pulsating.

At that moment the sun totally rose, illuminating his face. At that moment, he looked like an archangel. 

Heaven knows what color his heart would have been, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

BAM!

That would have been the sound of Snape's fist crashing onto his desk if he was a normal person; but Snape was no usual person.

He didn't show his anger in ordinary ways; he simply radiated it. When he was angry; you _knew_ he was angry.

And he was enraged at the moment. 

It wasn't the fact that Draco was lost; he couldn't give a damn about that little brat. 

He would see Draco's father in hell soon enough; he didn't need any quality time with his son. 

It was the certainty that he would be called upon to counter the bloody potion; again he would have to serve James's son. 

He would have to bring back Potter's crush, the Muggle-Born. He tried not to look at her every day, knowing the resemblance between Hermione and Lily. 

They even had the same middle name; Ann. He had chanced upon it when he was filing a detention for her. Her only one, so far as he knew.

He also knew that Draco had a crumb of affection for Hermione. It was obvious, the way he insulted her. He had a strange longing in his eyes whilst doing it, as though he wished for something more.

He hated the game Fate was playing with him. They were well acquainted. 

He just wanted to carve out his heart and stomp it on the ground. The resemblance was uncanny.

Hermione as Lily; Sirius as Ron; Harry as James, of course. 

Neville was so close to his father that he had been on the verge of calling him Frank several times.

He would have to think who would be Lupin, the werewolf. Possibly Thomas or Finnegan…no. 

They were far too close to each other to play Fate's role.

And then there was the matter of Weasley's personality. Sirius had never been jealous of Potter; quite the opposite. 

Sirius had been the most handsome boy in their year. _And the strongest, _mused Snape, fingering his twice-broken nose.

Sirius had been the most loyal friend anyone could have hoped for. But he did have a bit of a liking for Lily, as well. James had gotten into quite a few sprawls over that with him. To Snape's knowledge Sirius was still angry at himself for not asking her to marry him before James.

Analogy speaking, Draco would be him.

Not in looks, of course. Draco's nose was not crooked, and his hair was not greasy, most definitely. But in the sense that Hermione was to Lily, and Harry to James, it would be Draco to Severus. He would have to see it played again. He hoped that it would not happen; that it was just a figment of his imagination.

But Irony was sweet; he knew him as well as Fate. Irony would laugh in his face soon.

He paused a moment, and then set about preparing a potion. 

His cauldron was the largest size that came; it was almost taller then his six feet. He threw in a Moonstone, some Moonwart, and the face of a manticore killed at the full moon.

Various articles were thrown in, all of them illegal to all but a professional, closely maintained members of the Potions League.

When he carefully measured out the Purifying Powder, and threw it in the cauldron, a thick orange smoke filled the room. 

"Master?"

A thin, piercing voice whispered hoarsely. "You called?"

Neville was confused. As usual, nobody had bothered to explain things to him, and his bewilderment only added to the glances and the whispered insults about him.

He knew that he was looked down upon, both with pity and scorn. _It wouldn't have mattered so much, _he bitterly thought, _If they actually took me for someone capable of performing a levitating charm without Transfiguring it into a hippopotamus first._

He was potentially able to do the most advanced spells, he knew that. He had not been told of his magical abilities until he had bounced into his garden, but he _had_ taken the wizard's equivalent of an I.Q. test. His score had been 159. 

It was just the fact that he had grown up much more quickly. Stuck in a child's body with a teen's brain made him quite awkward. He was also usually frustrated. His body could not do anything that he thought he could do. 

At the moment he was worried. Neville knew that something was wrong with the way everyone was acting: Tense.

He could sense that something was awkward by the way everyone's feet were. 

He had learned long ago to sense emotions by the type of stride they took, as he had always been to shy to look someone in the eye. Now he was over that phobia, but the habit remained. 

Many people had been shuffling their feet, others had been tiptoeing, and most hadn't been moving at all.

And also, Hermione was missing.

The significance of that was major. Hermione had always helped him, always been there for him. He had really wanted to get on the Quidditch team; she had wheedled Harry to coach him. 

But in the end it was not Neville who was astonished, it was Harry. It turned out that Neville was a better Keeper then Oliver Wood. That was more then anyone expected as Neville had a bit of a flying disability. 

He wasn't scared of flying; that wasn't it. It wasn't his fear of heights that kept him from it. Ever since his uncle had dropped him off the BlackPool pier, he had always been in fear of

falling

and

falling

down.

It was hitting the ground that terrified him.

__

Seventeen years ago…

"…I proclaim thee Man and Wife. You may kiss the bride."

The preacher closed his enormous book, the title proclaiming "The Unholy Bible."

A silvery-haired man coldly kissed the woman beside him, with no passion, just an air of self-satisfaction. The woman stared blankly ahead, showing no signs of life but for the fact that her chest rose and lowered.

Her lovely violet eyes seemed to have depth, and her white skin was smoother than a new baby's. 

The man drew away, grinning all the while.

"Now, let us dance!" he proclaimed loudly.

Music started up, and he drew her into his arms. She did the complicated dance without difficulty, but without the passion the dance was meant for. A woman's back bumped into her, but yet she did not show that she noticed.

Suddenly her eyes became unglazed, and she whispered "Lucius, I can't take it anymore. Please, take it o—" 

Her eyes became unfocused again.

Lucius Malfoy chuckled. "It will be alright, Narcissa," he whispered into her ear. "The Imperius curse takes a little getting used to…"

And in the shadows, a black dog slunk away.

__

Seventeen Years ago

"…I proclaim thee Man and Wife. You may kiss the bride."

The preacher closed his enormous book, the title proclaiming "The Holy Bible."

A dark-haired man warmly kissed the woman beside him, with passion, with just a touch of anticipation. The woman smiled slightly, showing that she was alive with the way she quivered. 

Her lovely emerald eyes seemed to have depth, and her tan skin was smoother than a new baby's. 

The man drew away, grinning all the while.

"Now, let us dance!" he proclaimed loudly.

Music started up, and he drew her into his arms. She did the complicated dance without difficulty, adding so much emphasis that everyone who watched was amazed. A woman's back bumped into her, but yet she did not show that she noticed.

Suddenly her eyes sparkled even more. "James, we're really married—" 

Her eyes overflowed with happiness.

James Potter chuckled. "It will be alright, Lily," he whispered into her ear. "The idea takes a little getting used to…"

And in the shadows, a black dog slunk away.

Okay, I KNOW that sucked! I ADMIT it! My 

characters were nonsensical, monotonous, 

tedious, dull, unrealistic--*everyone politely 

looks away as the author rants*

Okay, I'm done! Thanks to my beta-readers! I 

have to fill up one more page with this crud…

Therefore, double-spacing is necessary. 

Okay, I can stop.

Eat turkey and be funny. 

Don't be like me

And try to take up a bunch of room 

So that people think your story is LONG, but in 

Reality it's about 10 KBs less then what

They think

So

T

T

F

N

O

K

A

Y

!

Love you, Mirage

Okay, I expect you to review. I've put on 1 ½ pages with this review, and I'm not about to waste it…

Ha, ha!


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